


Whose Jurisdiction Is It Anyway?

by emzyyy



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Cop AU, Depictions of Murder, F/M, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emzyyy/pseuds/emzyyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Claire Dearing is trying to track down a slippery serial killer, but her job only becomes harder when Special Agent Owen Grady from the NCIS tries to move in on her case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whose Jurisdiction Is It Anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by anon on Tumblr. I basically tried to imagine if Andrew Marlowe wrote Clawen, so this may actually be terrible. But I had a lot of fun with it, so there.

Claire stood with her face about four inches away from the murder board, flicking the dry erase marker between her fingers.  Three kills in two weeks, all with the same M.O.  A precise kill shot to the head followed by a lot of messy, post mortem slashes to the abdomen, leaving the victim in a substantial pool of blood.  A tax advisor, a night-shift nurse, and most recently a former Navy sailor.  Forensics hadn’t been able to pull any prints or DNA from the crime scenes, so detectives were left scratching their heads over the little evidence they could gather from the victims’ personal lives.

“Any sudden insight?” Zara piped up from behind, fresh cup of coffee in her hands.  Claire barely flinched.

“There’s got to be something we’re missing.”

“Yeah.  A suspect.”

“Why these victims?  Why this M.O.?”

“Maybe our guy just has anger issues.”

“Or girl,” Claire corrected, finally turning away from the board long enough to glance at her partner.  “And nobody is that meticulous about leaving evidence behind if it’s just a…spontaneous act.  These were premeditated.”

“ _Detective Dearing?_ ”

She jumped when she heard her name in an unfamiliar voice, and turned toward the elevator.  Two large men with equally large muscles under their shirts came strutting through like they owned the place.  Claire had never seen either of them in her life.

“Yes.”  She crossed her arms over her chest, staring up at them with steely eyes. “I believe you gentlemen have the advantage.”

Both of them unfolded badges from their pockets, like synchronized robots.  Claire sucked in a breath.   _Feds._ She had dealt with them before.  It never ended well.

“Special Agent Grady,” the one on the left answered reflexively.  “This is Special Agent Barry.  NCIS.”

Zara jumped up from her desk as they displayed their credentials and came to stand by Claire’s side.  Battle formation.

“And what is this regarding?”

“We’re taking over your investigation of the serial killer.”

Claire’s stomach lurched.  No.   _No no no._   This wasn’t happening.  She had spent too many restless nights trying to break this case open just to have the rug snatched out from under her.  They hadn’t seen those bodies in person, gaunt and sticky from their own blood and left to rot.   _She_  had.

“On whose authority?” she fired back a little too quickly.  The hair at the nape of her neck bristled.

“Our director’s,” the other agent answered calmly.  He pointed toward the photo that was added to the murder board just that morning.  “The Navy officer who was killed is a person of interest.  He was a trusted contact of the NCIS, and we suspect he was killed for the information he knew.”

“Well, I’m very sorry for your loss, but he’s not the only victim here.”  Claire could feel her entire body flushing with anger.  The jacket she was wearing had been a bad choice on her part, but there was no way she was slipping out of it at a time like this.

“Detective, I promise—“

“Have you spoken to Captain Masrani about this?!” she went on, moving her hands to rest defiantly on her hips.

“We will,” Grady replied coolly, as if he hadn’t been interrupted, before turning to his partner.  “Barry, you go talk with the captain.  I’ll think I’ll have a chat with Detective Dearing here.”

“I’ll show you to his office,” Zara grunted, clearly just as excited about their presence as Claire was.  The two of them held a quick, silent conversation with their eyes before Zara and Agent Barry disappeared down the hall.  And then there were two.

Agent Grady was nearly a head taller than she was, with five o’clock shadow that made him look more “crocodile hunter” than “federal agent.”  Claire was hardly intimidated, but the bullpen was nearly empty besides them and he carried himself with a definite presence.  Confident.  Clever. Nonchalant.  She _really_  wanted to get out of this jacket.

“We’re not trying to step on your toes, Detective,” he said calmly.  “Believe me.”

“Then  _don’t._ ”

He smiled.  Why was he smiling?  He had no business to be smiling.

“What?” she demanded.

“Nothing.”  He slung his thumbs through his belt loops.  “It’s just…if I had known I was meeting such a beautiful woman, I would’ve put on a better shirt this morning.”

Claire scoffed slightly, though she couldn’t help her eyes scanning his shirt to find out why it was so mediocre.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Agent Grady.”

He made a little sound – amusement, perhaps – before lowering his voice to almost a whisper.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret. I actually hate being called  _Agent Grady_.  Just call me Owen.”

Claire nodded curtly.

“Fine.  Owen.”

“And what can I call you?”

“ _Detective Dearing,_ ” she pressed, internal walls in their upright, locked positions.  This guy was the opposition.

“So what do your friends call you when you’re off duty?”

“They call me Claire,” she replied dryly, turning back to the murder board.  “But I’m neither your friend  _nor_  am I off duty.”

“ _Touche_ ,” he nodded, leaning his hip against the edge of her desk after a quiet moment.  “You seem like a woman who’s very dedicated to her job.”

“When millions of people depend on you, it’s hard not to be.”  It was the first time since he walked in that her voice let go of its agitated grate.  Slowly turning on her heel, she faced him again. “Surely you understand that.”

“Of course.  It takes initiative like that to be as good at your job as you are.”

Her skin felt warm for a second. Not like the flash of anger, but…something else.  She stepped in close, not realizing she was practically in his personal bubble until it was too late, but she stood her ground.

“So why are you trying to get me off?”

Grady raised his eyebrows. Claire swallowed.

“The  _case,_ ” she clarified, slightly embarrassed at her choice of words but determined not to show it.  “Get me off of the case.”

“Believe me, it’s not my idea.”

“I want you to understand something, Agent,” Claire asserted, nearly overlapping his voice.  “This is  _my_  case.  _My_  responsibility.  I won’t just walk away from this willingly.  I  _can’t._ ”

He straightened up his posture and took a tiny step closer.  Almost challenging her with his eyes, just to see what she’d do.

“So what do you suggest, Detective?”

Claire tugged on the hem of her jacket, half to get a small current moving through her clothes and half as a sign to prove that she meant business.

“Either we pool our resources and work together, or you take this case away from me and I make your life a living hell.”

His crooked grin didn’t falter, and he looked right in her eyes as she spoke.  Claire couldn’t understand why the hell he was looking at her like that. Wasn’t this supposed to be an argument? But he held out his hand.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Claire took the handshake with her mouth pressed in a line.  Why did she get the feeling that Agent Grady just got exactly what he wanted?


End file.
